Carceri

Carceri is a plane where distance becomes confinement. It does not use chains or cages. It does not torment or burn. It simply does not let go. The plane traps by making escape feel possible. Paths stretch toward freedom but loop back to their starting point. Portals appear, shimmer, and close. Every road is open, but none of them end anywhere new. Carceri does not close doors. It leaves them ajar just long enough to create hope, then takes it away.   The structure of the plane consists of massive spherical worlds floating in an endless void. Each sphere contains its own terrain, atmosphere, and internal gravity. Forests grow along the inside curve of a shell. Rivers flow uphill without question. Mountains rise from the surface only to bend back toward themselves. Gravity always points toward the surface of the sphere, holding everything in place. From one side of the sky, a traveler can look up and see the landscape mirrored above them.   Between the spheres is pure black space. Some believe that other spheres are visible from the edges of one’s current world, but travel between them is inconsistent. Portals are unreliable. Magic that moves people across space or through the planes frequently fails or simply returns the caster to a new location within the same sphere. Even attempts to fly or teleport outward often redirect or lose energy in transit. Carceri does not trap through resistance. It traps through indifference.   The terrain is not overtly hostile. There are forests, deserts, ruins, cities, and oceans. But everything is still. Air feels thin and quiet. Water does not reflect. Trees do not sway. The sky does not change. Over time, the repetition of detail becomes oppressive. Time functions normally in theory, but it becomes difficult to measure. Sleep cycles fade. Memory shifts. Seasons do not exist. The result is a steady erosion of context and meaning.   Those who live here are often remnants. Many arrived by fleeing justice, divine wrath, or the consequences of betrayal. Others were exiled from planes they once ruled. Some are mortals who invoked powers they did not understand. Most did not know they were entering a prison. They came seeking safety or advantage and found silence. Some have built cities or strongholds, convinced they will one day leave. Others have accepted the plane and now teach others not to resist it.   Magic works, but it changes over time. Illusion becomes weaker. Divination returns distorted information. Spells that call or compel beings from outside the plane become dangerous. Movement-based spells begin to feel slow, as if caught in a drag. Over time, casters adjust without meaning to. They plan less. They cast less. They forget what they once knew.   Carceri is not a punishment. It is a test of endurance with no end. It asks nothing. It demands nothing. It does not react to prayers or screams. It is patient. It is still. And it knows that everything breaks if left alone for long enough.